A Kiss of Ice and Fire
by Chaos Nightbringer
Summary: Ygritte was dead. Jon was going to burn her. Then a brief moment everything changes. Jon x Ygritte, rewrite of season 4 to start.
1. Chapter 1

**A Kiss of Ice and Fire**

Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire is owned by GRRM foremost. The plot idea is owned by my brain. You want it? Go find a Mountain and squeeze it out.

Seriously tho, don't do dat shit.

**Chapter 1**

Jon had loaded a cart drawn by a mule with bundles of sticks. He tried not to think of her as he did so. Jon barely felt the cold as he worked. He just felt hollow. He was going to do as she wished, as she had wished back when he'd met her.

He was going to burn her.

If the dead came, she wouldn't be among them. He wouldn't have to cut her open with Longclaw or take a brand to her rotting body. He'd sworn it to himself.

Tormund had asked Jon to burn her.

"You seem troubled, Jon Snow." Jon didn't look to where the voice had come. Stannis's red priestess.

"I suppose I am," Jon replied without looking at her. Jon turned to load another pair of fagots of sticks, bound with twine. As he turned, he saw her. The red woman. Her hair and dress were both the color of blood. A brief spot of sun caught the red hair, and just for a moment Jon saw her hair moving.

Jon ignored the twisting pain in his heart and loaded the pair of fagots onto the cart.

"You are burning something, I take it."

"That seems somewhat obvious, aye," Jon shouted. He instantly regretted raising his voice. He was letting his anger get the better of him. "Forgive me," Jon added. He didn't want to give an explanation.

Jon saw that his brothers in the watch were looking at him as he worked. He thought he saw them talking quietly. Perhaps thinking Jon was more wildling than crow now. No, not crow, Jon thought to himself. He was a brother of the Night's Watch, not a bloody crow.

"I understand, brother Snow," the red woman replied to his apology. "You needn't apologize to me. I'm a stranger to you. You are grieving." Jon raised an eyebrow at the red woman.

"'Brother' Snow?" He asked. "Are you a member of the Night's Watch now?"

"No," Melisandre replied with a grin. "But I do defend the realms of men from what lies in the darkness. I was simply trying to be respectful, Jon Snow. You are a brother, so I thought it would be proper. A gesture of my sympathy, if you will."

"I thank your gesture," Jon Snow replied. "Though not your company."

"I think company is what you need, more than respect or gestures," Melisandre replied quickly, refuting Jon's words.

"I don't want company," Jon declared. He passed Melisandre and stepped inside a room just off the yard of Castle Black. Melisandre just waited, watching over the cart. She ignored the stares of the other watchmen. She was a stranger, and had been for a long time. She was used to staring by now.

The bastard watchmen Snow reemerged bearing a body wrapped in furs. He carried her in his arms like a bride, rather than carrying her over his shoulder like one might carry a dead body. Melisandre noted this with some thought.

Jon saw her but kept silent as he carried Ygritte to the cart. He set her down gently.

"A moment," Melisandre pleaded roughly, and quickly stepped around Jon Snow to place a hand on Ygritte's brow. She had no idea if it would work. Why would it work? A girl from beyond the Wall, with no special powers? Even so, she thought of Beric Dondarrion, resurrected six times by the Lord of Light, acting through Thoros.

"Lord of Light, this child's flame has gone out. Your humble servant begs you to restore her flame, to keep it in your light. Breathe your gifts into her. Watch over her spirit." Melisandre dropped off, almost wincing as she looked down. It was pointless. For a brief instant, she had felt the need to bless the dead girl.

Maybe she'd simply become envious of Thoros for an instant. She was angry, that such a fallen man could have performed the miracle. Melisandre stepped back and touched the metal choker about her neck, running her finger over the smooth faceted surface of the ruby.

"I'm sorry," she declared. "She worshiped the old gods, I should not have done that."

"I doubt she would care," Jon replied bluntly. The black headed swordsman had watched Melisandre's blessing with some slightly disdain, annoyed at the red priestess. Melisandre only nodded, still feeling embarrassed at her own behavior. Jon heard Stannis call for her, and Melisandre walked off towards the man. Jon didn't watch her leave.

Instead, he began his small trek to the god's wood, north of the wall. It seemed the best place, to Jon. Ghost had followed him, and Jon appreciated the direwolf's company. None of Jon's brothers followed him. He was glad of that.

The wind buffeted him as he walked, his hand on the mule's reigns to guide the animal. To Jon's pained dismay the wind only reminded him of Ygritte's breathing. The cold, when he felt it, caused him to think back of sharing Ygritte's warmth, or climbing the Wall with her. With gritted teeth he realized he wanted to draw Longclaw and hack the wall down like a great tree. If it had never been there, things might have been different.

Maybe if this, maybe if that. If he'd killed the warg earlier. If he'd convinced her to run south with him. If he'd just killed the old man, spared him dying of hunger in the winter.

"Night falls, and so my watch begins," Jon whispered to himself, trying to focus by repeating his vows. "From this day, to the end of my days." Take no wife, father no children. No lands, no castles. Jon realized he was finally seeing the true cost of the Night's Watch. He'd seen a part of it when he'd wished to go south again, to aid Robb and his father. Now he was seeing another part that was wholly worse.

When he finally reached the god's wood, Jon didn't feel any better, just resigned. This was his last duty to Ygritte. Jon pulled the cart close to the weirwood and held the mule to a stop. Jon paused by the mule. He'd have to look at her again, one last time. See her features without the warmth of her body flowing through her cheeks, her breathing still.

Jon took a few moments to fortify himself, then turned and moved to the cart to fetch the wood. He unloaded them quickly and built a pyre, ready to be lit with a bucket of pitch Jon had brought to get the fire going. All the while she was lying there, unmoving.

Finally, he tried as gently as he could to move Ygritte from the cart and place her on the bed of wood. Her head rolled as if to lie against his shoulder. Jon felt his eyes filling with tears, but he held them in by sheer force of will.

Ygritte gave a slight moan as she was laid down. Jon didn't think anything of it. Bodies did that, he'd discovered, as their last breaths that had been trapped in the bodies were forced out. He ignored a slightly warm brush of wind on his cheek.

Jon turned away to grab the single lit torch he'd brought. It was burning down, he'd have to move fast or she might not burn properly. Jon turned, torch in hand, held away to not burn himself. Then he froze, stunned.

Ygritte's eyes were open, and looking around, she was sitting up on the bed of branches. Her expression was one of horror, and she looked down at her chest. Her green eyes, not blue, went back up to Jon.

"Jon," she breathed, worried. Jon rushed forward. Ygritte's hands came up out of the furs as Jon closed the distance. Jon embraced her, not caring how she was alive. Ygritte was sobbing into his neck. "Tell me we're alive," she pleaded. "Tell me I'm not one of those things."

"We're alive," Jon breathed. "I don't know how, but we're both alive." Ygritte gave a relieved noise into Jon's neck, then chuckled.

"You know nothin', Jon Snow."

Jon Snow could only smile, relieved and amused.

Sam Tarly was sitting next to Edd, around a tiny fire that barely put out any warmth. They had been discussing Jon and the dead wildling girl. Edd seemed far less enamored and understanding of Jon's, and by extension had begun to prod Sam about Gilly and Smallsam.

"You think Jon broke his vows with that girl, while he was spying on the wildlings?" Edd asked, looking over at Sam. Sam glanced back, slightly perturbed by his friend's question.

"Well," Sam began. "Our vows only prevent us from fathering children and taking wives, don't they." Sam had pointed this out before, to Jon in fact. "Some of the officers visit Mole's Town. As long as Jon didn't marry her or make a child by her, wouldn't that be fine?"

"Lord Snow broke his bloody vows," came Throne's growl of a voice. Sam looked back up to see the pale-haired officer glaring down at the three. That was slightly unfair to think, Sam thought to himself. Thorne didn't seem to look at anyone favorably, perhaps he just glared at everybody.

"When Snow returns, IF he returns, we'll be striking his head off as a traitor and deserter," Thorne insisted. "And Tarly's little wildling will have her ears off and put back on the side of the Wall she belongs to."

"You seem to be excited at that, Ser Thorne," Edd noted. "You never liked Snow to begin with, so why is it up to you?"

"The Lord Commander's gone," Thorne replied, stating the obvious. "Until a new one's selected, I'm the most senior officer at Castle Black. Snow is to be executed, and the wildlings will be sent back the way they came."

"Ranger Thorne." Sam looked above him to see Maester Aemon walking atop one of the many wooden walkways that overlooked the yard. "Brother Edd has the right of it. Snow may be executed, if he is found to be guilty. You are far from an impartial man in this, however. We will have a trial, where you can plead your thoughts, but all of Jon's brothers at Castle Black will have a word on this. In the meantime, would you be so good as to speak with Lord Baratheon, brother Thorne?"

The old Knight stalked off with irritation writ plain across his face. No change there, Samwell noted glumly. The rotund watchmen stood and walked to where he could more comfortably gaze up at the ancient Targaryen Maester.

"Maester Aemon, it isn't true about Gilly, is it?" Samwell asked. "About...her ears?" If Aemon could hear how nervous Samwell was about it, the old man said nothing of it.

"In years gone by, that has been the punishment for attempting to bypass the wall, aye," Aemon replied. "However it was not used a great deal in Lord Commander Mormont's time. Each Lord Commander deals with the wildlings as they see fit."

A horn sounded from atop the wall. One blast. Sam began to walk over to greet the returning rangers. Edd and Grenn stood as well. When the gates rose, Jon was running, pulling the mule and cart behind him.

"Fetch more clothes and hot water!" Jon's orders were shouted, and a few began to follow them, until a second voice rang out.

"Piss on water," came a girl's voice, shouting angrily. "Get me something stronger!"

Everyone within earshot froze.

From atop a the covered bridge, Melisandre was staring, her eyes wide.

Ygritte was breathing hot steam from her mouth, looking around at every frozen in dumbstruck awe. Jon almost growled in exasperation and pulled his thick cloak off to throw it around Ygritte.

"She's a white walker," Edd declared.

"I wouldn't have brought her back if she were," Jon declared.

Edd looked nervously over at Sam, who met his gaze.

"Jon's got a point," Samwell noted, defending his friend. Edd let out a deep sigh that crossed with growl and looked back to Jon.

"You're bringing back dead wildlings now, Lord Crow?" Thorne asked. Melisandre began to step down, walking over to speak to Ygritte. She had to know what lay beyond. This was added to by the amazement that her blessing had worked. Why had it worked?

The thoughts raced through her mind. She must be important. Could a wildling girl be the promised prince? Melisandre doubted it, but she had believed it was Stannis. Could it be Jon Snow? Melisandre was almost running across the snow-covered yard to stand near the returned girl, looking up at her.

"What did you see?" The red woman asked. The wildling looked back down at her, perturbed. "Before you came back, what did you see? What was there, when you died?"

Ygritte's eyes glazed over a moment, trying to remember.

"Ice," Ygritte replied. "And fire. Then...I don't remember." Ygritte looked back to the red priestess to see a horror come across her eyes. Melisandre's mouth had fallen open, with no words to say.

"We'll burn her," Thorne declared. Melisandre looked down, mouth closing.

"No," the priestess declared. "She is not a white walker, she is no servant of the darkness. The Lord of Light breathed his fire back into her, that is all."

"The Lord restored her life?" Stannis was asking this now. Melisandre looked back to him. Everything she had believed had been shaken. Stannis was the Prince, Melisandre had believed it. Could she have been wrong?

"I believe so," Melisandre replied honestly. "I blessed her body, only briefly. I don't even know why I did it. I was drawn to Jon Snow by a feeling, the same feeling overcame me but for a moment, and I prayed over her body."

"And what should be done with her, Priestess?" Stannis was not impressed by Ygritte.

"I'll determine that," Jon Snow declared, his face going hard. "She's no subject of the Iron Throne, and the Night's Watch is neutral. You have no claim to her, even if your lady brought her back."

"Oh the bastard is giving orders now?" Thorne demanded, venom oozing in his voice.

"I'll break any hand that touches me without my permission," Ygritte warned, finally seeking to protect herself any way she could.

"I have warm clothes she could wear," Melisandre offered, trying to defuse the situation.

"Gods," Ygritte growled to herself. "I am gonna be in a silk dress from tra-le-la."

"As a gesture of good will towards Jon Snow," Melisandre added, shrugging to her lord.

"And," Samwell Tarly added. "Maester Aemon and I can examine her and determine if she is a walker or not. Just to be safe."

"Very well," Thorne decided with a grumble. "Lord Stannis, you have your wildling."

Ygritte had found herself wrapped in a red dress, with a fur cloak wrapped about her shoulders. Melisandre had no foot wear of any kind, but Jon had provided a pair of worn boots that at least kept her feet from freezing off. Still, the cold was still there, almost painful, even inside. Melisandre had sat her down on the small cot.

The red woman wore no cloak at all, still pacing about with naught but her dress and light shoes.

"How do you stand being dressed like that in this cold?" Ygritte demanded angrily.

Melisandre walked over.

"I've learned a few tricks," she replied bluntly. "Feel my hand." Ygritte took the proffered hand and almost recoiled, and saw that her own skin had reddened from the heat inside the older woman's body.

"You have a sickness?" Ygritte asked.

"The Lord of Light keeps some of his fire within me," Melisandre explained, going back to pacing, as if her explanation was obvious. The door opened, letting in even colder air. In walked Maester Aemon, hobbling as quickly as he could, with Samwell Tarly behind him, shutting the door behind the pair of men.

"You bloody crows aren't burning me until I'm good and dead," Ygritte warned, rising, her hands fists at her sides. Aemon seemed unperturbed.

"As you wish, my dear," Aemon replied with a grin. "I truthfully don't believe you are a white walker either. I spoke with Jon Snow after the attack here, and examined the bodies myself. I am certain I can determine that you are not a walker, if you'll permit me."

Ygritte nodded. Samwell grimaced, and Ygritte quickly looked to see that Aemon's eyes were milky, clearly blind. "Fine then," Ygritte said aloud. Aemon stepped closer, guided by Samwell with a hand. Aemon held up a hand close to Ygritte's head.

"Would you please breathe upon my hand?" Ygritte exhaled loudly on the hand. Aemon felt the warm breath. "May I hold your hand now, my dear?" the redhead sighed in annoyance and put one of her hands in Aemon's. The old maester moved his other hand and clasped Ygritte's in both of his.

"Warm," Aemon noted aloud. Aemon's hands were cold to Ygritte, but the fire-haired wild girl noted they weren't hard or cruel, somehow. A few fingers moved to the inside of her wrist. "Steady heartbeat," Aemon noted aloud to Sam. "Forgive me, my dear." At this Aemon pinched with two fingers, and Ygritte's hand recoiled a bit by instinct.

"Very good, my dear," Aemon declared. Then he followed it up with a question. "May I see the wound that ended your life?" Ygritte's mouth fell open. Melisandre met Ygritte's gaze, but said nothing, still pacing uncomfortably.

"If you have to," Ygritte decided. She took Aemon's single hand and placed it where the arrow had emerged. Aemon's other hand moved and slipped beneath the neckline of Ygritte's dress. Aemon stepped closer as the other held her arm gently but firmly as an old man could. The cold hand still made Ygritte gasp slightly from the touch on her skin.

"The wound is not closed," Aemon noted aloud. "There is no blood, however. You may feel discomfort, try not to move." Aemon's pinky finger actually went into the meat of Ygritte's chest where the arrow had come out. Ygritte actually growled, the wound felt tender being prodded at. "You should be dead," Aemon declared. "The wound is not healed, though the texture inside feels much like a burn wound. Yet you are breathing with no difficulty, and your heart is strong."

"But," Samwell asked, his confusion writ plain. "How is that possible, Maester?"

"I have no idea, my boy. I have studied many of the higher mysteries, but I have no inkling of what could have revived this girl. The red woman's lord is a great healer, it seems." Aemon's head angled off to Melisandre. "Do pass along my compliments, Lady Melisandre."

"I am sure he will appreciate them, Maester Aemon," Melisandre replied out of politeness.

**So this kinda just comes from a desire to see more Jon x Ygritte fanfics out there, but I thought it was a more interesting premise to bring her back via Melisandre than for Olly to miss or something. It was kind of an interesting idea as well that Ygritte's wounds are still there and are absolutely fatal, but Ygritte remains alive. Somewhat taken from Beric and his scars and missing eye. He's not regenerating, at least not more than what the Lord deems necessary to function.**

**The title is a little weird, but it is inspired by the mention of redheads being "Kissed by Fire." And also Ice because...It's a song of ice and fire. Does raise a thought that perhaps others will wind up being kissed to life by ice instead of fire? No not really gonna happen, but I hope Ygritte will lead to a few changes in the outcome of the Game of Thrones.**

**Next chapter, Jon tells Tormund that Ygritte's back, and tensions continue to rise. How will Stannis react to thinking he might not be God's chosen? How will Olly react to his father's killer being alive? Please leave a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A Kiss of Ice and Fire**

Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire is owned by GRRM foremost. The plot idea is owned by my brain. You want it? Have Illyn Payne bring you my head.

Seriously tho, don't do dat shit.

**Chapter 2**

Jon entered the ice cell carefully, keeping the torch in front of him. Jon glanced into the corner to make sure he wouldn't be snuck up on. He may not have saved Ygritte after all, if Thorne got his way. Jon had Edd stand guard behind him, as an extra precaution.

Jon checked the other corner, and Tormund's blue eyes reflected back at him from the torch. The big man grinned and went to sit down, giving up on ambush for the time being. Jon actually grinned a bit himself. Despite being on opposite sides of a long vigil, he liked the redheaded brawler.

"You burn Ygritte then?" Jon's smile fell.

"No," Jon replied. "Something else happened before I could."

Tormund's expression turned to one of worry. Jon could see the big man's thoughts turning. Had Jon buried her, or just tossed Ygritte off the top of the wall. Or was she something else now?

"There's a red woman here with Stannis, from the south," Jon began. Tormund absorbed the news, though he honestly had no idea who the hell 'Stannis' was. "The red woman said a prayer to a lord of light. Before I could burn her, Ygritte came back. Not as a walker, as herself." Tormund stared at Jon for a moment.

"If you're lying to me, crow," Tormund warned slowly. "I'll cut your crow sausage off and stick it where it won't help you so much."

"I wasn't planning on using it very much, anyway," Jon said, japing. Tormund let out a hissing exhale that turned to a great howl of laughter. Jon joined in with his own chuckle. When Tormund's laughter had settled, Jon added more. "I know you don't trust me, but I'm not lying. I swear I'll try to let you see her. One of the officers, Thorne, he's aiming for my head for breakin' my vows, and Stannis is here for something else. I don't know what yet."

"Did you put Ygritte in a cell like this?" Tormund accused, his voice a growl.

"No I didn't," Jon replied. "But I'm not a lord, not an officer. The Lord Commander's gone, there's nothing but me and my friends on the Wall that stops Thorne from killing all of you. I nearly got me and Ygritte killed just bringing her back alive to Castle Black."

"But only nearly," Tormund noted.

Ygritte looked up as her 'cell' door was opened. She'd been put into an empty storm room, with a busted cot and a pair of thin woolen blankets. The door, if it could be called that, was a plank of wood that had been patched on more than once, with a strong bolt mated to it that was probably stronger than the door itself.

A man in a metal helm with a cap looked in. Ygritte watched him carefully. He was a southerner, that was for sure, all andal features. Ygritte thought he was going to walk in and finish her. Then the red woman entered the cell. The door was closed behind her. Her hands were clasped before her belly, staring at Ygritte.

"Did you bring me back just to throw me in an empty room in a castle?" Ygritte demanded, wishing her hands were free.

"I didn't bring you back, girl," Melisandre replied. "The Red God did. You should thank him." Ygritte looked out the window.

"I don't know your red god," Ygritte replied bluntly. "I keep the Old Gods."

"The Red God is the only god," Melisandre replied. "All others are demons and false gods, made by the Other to lead men astray." Ygritte rolled her eyes, bored of this conversation already. "Jon Snow worships the Old Gods and the Seven. Both are false. Only the Lord of Light can save you from the darkness."

"You don't know Jon," Ygritte replied quickly.

"No," Melisandre agreed, equally as quick. "But you do." Ygritte glanced back at the older woman. Why would a red woman want to know about Jon Snow?

"If you want to know him," Ygritte taunted. "Go ahead. He's sweet to girls. He does a little something with his mouth. You'll enjoy it." Melisandre didn't react beyond an amused grin at Ygritte's taunting.

"So good to hear at least one man knows how to treat a woman well," Melisandre replied after a moment. Ygritte's self-satisfied little grin vanished. Every damn word out of the red woman's mouth made Ygritte want to stab her more. "One wonders if Jon Snow will say similar things about you. That's not why I am here."

Ygritte looked away, choosing to play indifference to the priestess.

"My King, Stannis, has come to the wall for men for his war. The Night's Watch are depleted. But your people." Ygritte looked over her shoulder at the red woman. "Will they bend the knee to Stannis and fight for him?"

"Stannis wants them to bend their knees?" Ygritte asked, not understanding.

"Kneel," Melisandre explained.

"We don't kneel," Ygritte replied, looking forward.

"They will die if they don't," Melisandre replied.

"Then we die," Ygritte countered. Melisandre took a deep breath, as if she knew Ygritte would answer like that.

"You won't die at first," Melisandre replied. "Stannis's men will tie your King to a stake. I will light a the pyre beneath him. The smoke will steal his breath." Melisandre didn't move, didn't circle Ygritte to appear intimidating. "You will see his eyes widen as he struggles to keep breathing, as the fire begins to go from warm to hot. Only a few men hold their fear in check."

Ygritte kept her eyes and face forward, feeling the distant sun warming part of her face. Even so, her mouth had opened, picturing it in her head. It wasn't pretty.

"A few scream as soon as their legs catch fire," Melisandre related. "The few that never scream, I've always respected in a way. Most do, eventually. Truthfully, the fire never kills a man. The burning does. The pain. Causes a man's heart to stop. The skin falls away." Ygritte felt her eyes watering.

Mance won't scream, she told herself. He's different.

"Most scream. But they all die, eventually."

Mance won't scream. Ygritte's eye had opened like a dam. Mance won't scream.

"You'd be surprised how long they can scream," Melisandre replied. "When all that you see of them is a black shape of a man, even then they still scream."

"Mance won't scream," Ygritte hissed, keeping her face hard, despite the fact that she knew her tears were visible.

"He may not," the red woman agreed. "He seems a strong man. Many people seem strong. Even you are strong. You may not scream either. Women have always been stronger. But it will hurt a great deal."

Mance won't scream. Tormund won't scream. Ygritte wouldn't scream. The free folk were all strong. Melisandre turned and rapped on the door lightly. The bolt was opened and the door swung wide, and Ygritte turned to watch the red woman go.

"I will scream," Ygritte growled. Something in her tone made the red woman look over her shoulder at the wildling. "I'll scream a curse on you. To curse you to a death in the cold and the dark, surrounded by the dead. You'll never be burned. You'll rot to nothing and no one will bury you."

Melisandre's expression didn't change, but she still glared silently at Ygritte. Then there was a slight curve to her mouth. Almost as if she was impressed.

"Mance Rayder will kneel to Stannis or burn," Melisandre declared. "When night comes. Jon Snow must convince him. Night is coming. And it is dark. And full of terrors."

"I know," Ygritte replied. "I've seen them." Ygritte finally saw fear in the red woman's eyes at that. "You should be afraid of them as I am." Ygritte was smiling at her.

Melisandre left at this, perturbed. Ygritte looked back, satisfied with herself.

Jon Snow stepped from the lift. The wind buffeted him like a storm woud at Winterfell. Jon was used to them at this point. It made Jon realize he truly belonged to the Wall now. Perhaps whether he liked it or not.

He found Stannis standing side by side with another man, both with their backs to Jon, looking out beyond the Wall. The wind had cleared out a lot of the clouds that normally would've obscured the view. They could see the rest of Mance's host, a great black smear, broken in a million pieces of free folk.

"You wanted a word," Jon greeted. The man at Stannis's side turned.

"I'm Davos Seaworth, hand to the true King, Stannis Baratheon," Davos greeted. Jon nodded at the man, before Stannis turned. Jon went to his knee.

"Do you know who holds Winterfell now?" Jon winced at Stannis's question. Maester Aemon had told him.

"Roose Bolton," Jon answered, rising. Aemon had also told him what Roose had down, at the orders of Tywin Lannister. Robb was gone. Jon felt a great stab of pain in his heart at that.

"The traitor who put a dagger in Robb Stark's heart," Stannis added. Jon didn't wince, but the knife just went deeper into Jon's own at being reminded. "At the hands of Tywin Lannister. The old Lion is dead, no one to protect Bolton anymore."

So Stannis meant to take Winterfell from Bolton. It was becoming clear what Stannis wanted. Then Stannis asked for more men, confirming Jon's thoughts.

Stannis turned back around to look over the Wall.

"I need more men," Stannis added further.

"The Night's Watch is nuetral," Jon reminded.

"Forget the Night's Watch," Stannis declared brusquely. "What about the damn wildlings? If they fight for me, they come south of the wall. When they help me win the throne, I'll give them land to live on."

Davos turned to Snow now. "You've spoken to Mance Rayder, you earned his trust, his respect. You took a wildling girl as a lover. If you convince Mance Rayder to kneel to the King he'll live."

"If I fail?" Davos frowned at Jon's question.

Stannis turned back to the bastard now.

"Then Mance Rayder will be executed for treason," Stannis declared. "The Lady Melisandre will burn him as a sacrifice to the Red God."

"How long do I have?" Jon replied quickly.

"Until nightfall. The days are short this far north. Speak quickly." Jon spun at Stannis's declaration, heading back to the lift.

Nightfall came fast, in the end. Mance was dragged out into the yard of Castle Black. Baratheon soldier had spent the latter day building a pyre around a stake. Mance had been stripped of his furs, clad only in a pair of worn trousers. Jon looked over.

Tormund and the rest of the free folk captives were here, including... Jon's eyes settled on Ygritte's. She was glaring at him, accusing him. She was beautiful, in a red dress, with a cloak of fur about her shoulders. Except her expression made his heart twist.

Mance was brought before Stannis, who stood just before the stake, standing before everyone. The two kings were similar in some ways, perhaps.

"Kneel, and swear loyalty to me and you and your people can fight for me. You'll be rewarded with lands and your lives." Stannis declared a truncated version of the offer he'd told Jon Snow. Mance didn't seem tempted.

"My people don't deserve to fight in a foreigner's wars," Mance declared. "If it were just me, Aye, I'd kneel to ya. I don't want to die. But I look out for my own. They'll fight to survive. But not for a man to sit the Iron Throne." Mance glanced to his right, over Stannis's shoulder to where Tormund and Ygritte were standing, watching.

"Mance Rayder," Stannis declared. "I, Stannis of the House Baratheon, sentence you to die. Do you have any last words?"

"Aye, just a few," Mance replied, smiling sadly. "Hangings work pretty well for getting rid of traitors, if you want to spare the wood for later." Jon sucked in a surprised breath. Mance Rayder was japing about being burned alive. A grin crossed Jon's face a moment. He glanced over to see Ygritte giving a smirk along with Tormund's dirty chuckle.

Mance was dragged to the stake, his arms chained behind his back. Melisandre stepped forward, receiving a torch from a baratheon man at arms as she stepped closer. She turned and addressed the assembled Night's Watch, wildlings, and the Baratheon host.

"To each of us, falls a choice," Melisandre began.

"For fuck's sake, get it over with," Mance growled. Jon's grin disappeared as a thought struck him. Jon didn't hear much of the red woman's speech after that. Something about choosing between good and evil. Then he saw her lighting the wood beneath Mance, and his attention focused on the King Beyond the Wall.

"Don't scream, Mance!" Ygritte was shouting now.

Mance's eyes were open, and Jon could see he was focusing on something. Blocking out eh fear, Jon realized.

"I'm not gonna watch this," Jon declared, turning and going up the walkway. Dolorous Edd looked at him as he left. Ygritte saw and pointedly ignored him.

Mance's legs were engulfed in flames now. He wasn't screaming.

He wouldn't scream. Ygritte knew it.

"This is unnatural," Tormund whispered. Ygritte glanced over and saw that the big man was horrified. Ygritte looked back and realized why. She'd been focusing on her king. She hadn't seen that he was now surrounded by a solid ring of fire, even as it began to burn his legs. Mance's eyes were wider than she'd ever seen.

"He won't scream, Tormund," Ygritte insisted.

"How can he bloody not?" Giantsbane had his answer, not the way Ygritte had intended.

An arrow struck Mance in the chest, right where his heart was. Jon lowered the bow as Mance looked up to meet his eyes. The old man gave a smile. Then he died and went slump. Jon looked down to see everyone looking at him.

"He was a traitor to the Night's Watch," Jon declared. "But he fought for his people, no matter which people he chose to fight for! He was a sworn brother, a ranger. Then he became a man of the free folk, a King beyond the Wall. Now his Watch has ended."

Jon saw a few men nod. Sam and Edd in particular were grinning back up at him.

"And now his watch has ended," the pair intoned.

Jon's eyes went over to Tormund and Ygritte. Tormund's expression went from surprise, to approval. Ygritte was grinning, though it was more like she'd been proven right.

Mance Rayder burned silently.


	3. Chapter 3

**A Kiss of Ice and Fire**

Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire is owned by GRRM foremost. The plot idea is owned by my brain. You want it? The many faced god must have a name.

Seriously tho, don't do dat shit.

**Chapter **3

Bran looked up at the withered man. He wore black clothes. Bran briefly thought they may have belonged to the Night's Watch, a long time ago. The man's face was lined deeply. On his cheek there was a darker shape, a slight impression of a bird in flight.

"Hello," the old man said, his mouth a grim smile.

Bran's surprise at such an ordinary greet must have been playing across his face. As if automatically an urge to introduce himself properly hit.

"I am Brandon Stark, of Winterfell." the old man seemed bemused by the greeting.

"I know," he replied. "I am Brynden Rivers. I was born in King's Landing, to a Blackwood of Raventree Hill."

Bran's surprise only grew, recognizing the name.

"Blood Raven," Bran remarked. "One of Aegon the Unworthy's bas-" Bran paused, not wishing to upset his host. This seemed to amuse the old man even more.

"Yes, a bastard, called Blood Raven. They never let you forget, so I stopped trying." At that the young Stark thought of Jon. Wondered what it might have been like at the wall for him. "And you," the old man began again, looking up at Bran's companion. "Must be Hodor."

"Hodor," the big man replied, nodding as if he understood. The old man nodded in return. One of the children of the forest walked over and took the rotund man's arm, guiding him deeper in the cave.

"And Meera Reed," the old man noted, nodding at Meera. "And Summer." The direwolf merely walked over and sat next to Bran as if bored. "I've known you were coming for a long time, my young friends. I am sorry that you lost much on the journey."

Bran looked up at Meera. Her face was still drawn in mourning for her brother. But he'd been burned, she would never have to look at his face being twisted to savagery by a white walker.

"It was essential that you do come," Brynden declared. "Where Jojen Reed walks now, I will follow soon. Before that happens, I must pass on what I can to you, young Brandon." Brynden was staring down at Bran again. "Have you warged, Brandon?" Bran nodded. "A weirwood tree?" Bran nodded again, not understanding.

"We have a little time, then," Brynden noted. "Leaf." At the summons a child of the forest walked closer, bearing a woven basket. Inside was some bread, fruit. "Eat, both of you," it was a command, though there was gentleness to it. "You will need your strength."

"What about Summer?" Bran asked.

"He is a direwolf," the raven noted. "His blood has some of the North in it. He will know where to find food. When I return, we will begin. Eat, sleep if you can."

"Where are you going?" Brandon asked. The old man smiled sadly at him and looked down at the roots growing through him.

"Nowhere, Brandon. Yet everywhere." Then his eyes went white and the Blood Raven was not in the room, though Brynden Rivers was.

Ygritte was awakened by a brush of a few fingers on her cheek. She stirred and looked up to see the dark curls and Jon's face looking down on her. She raised her hands, still in manacles, and brushed off his own hand.

Jon looked disappointed as he kept his hand to himself. He was still sitting at her side, on the cot she'd been given.

"What are you doing here so early," Ygritte asked drowsily, rolling over.

"I was out there for a long time," Jon confessed softly. "I forgot how to sleep when it's warm." Jon paused a moment. "I forgot how to sleep without you."

"You'll get used to it," Ygritte replied.

"Aye," Jon agreed, wearily. "I don't want to, though."

Ygritte frowned a moment then went to a grin. She didn't want him to see. Even though she wanted to hold him again.

"Did you sleep well?" Jon's question was laced with actual concern.

"I've slept with worse," Ygritte replied.

"I know you have," Jon countered. Ygritte didn't speak back. Jon sighed and looked down. "I'm sorry." Ygritte narrowed her eyes, confused, though Jon didn't see it. The bastard rose from the cot and moved to leave.

"Why are you sorry," Ygritte asked, not turning in her cot.

"I couldn't help Mance," Jon noted, pausing. "I keep doing it over in my head, wondering if I could've found a better choice."

"You helped him," Ygritte replied softly.

"Then why do I feel like shit." Jon left her cell after saying this.

"Brooding little boy," Ygritte whispered to herself, finally letting her own misery show.

"Sam," Jon greeted. The rotund brother turned as he left the library, followed by Gilly. Sam gave Jon a smile in return. "Visiting in the library again, you should be made a maester."

"It was only to keep the princess company," Sam replied defensively. "She was teaching Gilly how to read."

"I know S," Gilly replied. "I guess that's a good letter." Jon paused, stunned quiet.

"I guess," Jon replied. "Sword, snow, sweet, sun all start with S."

"Sam starts with S." Jon smiled back at the wildling.

"Aye." Jon looked at Samwell seriously. "Make sure you're at the election for Lord Commander, Sam."

"I will," Sam declared, still defensive. Jon glanced at Gilly.

"You shouldn't bring Gilly though. She's a good person, but the others won't be keen on a girl, wildling or not, at the election." Sam gave a grudging nod of agreement.

"Jon Snow," Jon looked behind Sam to see see Selyse Baratheon walking from the library. "My husband the King wishes to speak with you again."

The Lord Commander's solar had been given over to Stannis. Davos stood in the corner, almost at guard. Jon was left waiting, standing before Jeor Morment's desk, holding a man that Jon no longer thought well of.

"You showed mercy to Mance Rayder," Stannis commented. "Not very smart. You show too much mercy, people no longer fear you." The king held Jon's gaze. "If people don't fear you, they won't follow."

"The wildlings didn't fear Mance Rayder, they followed him," Jon noted correctly.

"Then who can lead the wildlings," Stannis asked, cocking his head. "You?"

"I doubt it," Jon confessed. "One of their own perhaps. Mance spent 20 years uniting the clans of wildlings, they respect a strong leader of their kind, not from south of the Wall."

"I don't have 20 years," Stannis noted ruefully.

"The Night's Watch is electing a new Lord Commander, tonight," Davos reminded Jon. "Allister Thorne is going to win." Jon winced. It was probably true. "What do you think life will be like with him in command?"

"Unpleasant," Jon quipped.

Stannis almost seemed amused to Jon. "My wife doesn't like you," he declared. "She thinks you're the product of a liason between Ned Stark and a tavern girl." Jon wanted to argue, felt the muscles in his jaw clench, wanting to grind his teeth. "I didn't know Ned Stark personally, but if I know the man's reputation he wasn't the sort of man to bed a tavern girl, especially not with a betrothed highborn lady waiting for him."

"It doesn't matter," Jon noted. Stannis didn't seem to hear him, or was ignoring him.

"Do you know of Lyanna Mormont?" Jon recognized the last name.

"Of the Lord Commander's house?" Jon asked. Stannis lifted a raven's message.

"Her mother and her older sisters fought in your brother's war, died in it," Stannis noted. "I sent a raven, asking for men, she sent this, written in her hand. She's lady of Bear Island now, a girl all of ten years." Stannis offered the thin paper to Jon. Snow leaned over and took it in his hand, stretching the other end with his opposite to read it.

The writing looked about what Jon expected from a girl of ten.

_The North knows no king, but the King in the North, and his name is Stark._

Jon was amused, but still puzzled.

"I expect I'll be receiving a few more like that when the damn ravens return," Stannis declared. "Your brother was too good for his own sake. The only man that Tywin Lannister could not defeat in the field. He did his damage though. The North won't submit to anyone not named Stark."

"You won't find any of them in the Wildlings," Jon replied, lowering the note.

"I might have one right here," Stannis replied back. Jon looked up now. Had Jon misheard.

"The North is just like your wildlings, they won't follow someone who isn't their own. Kneel, swear me your service and sword. You'll rise as Jon Stark." Jon was frozen in silence as Stannis spoke. "Your bit of mercy with Mance Rayder was brave, but stupid. Thorne will punish you for it. I'd rather reward bravery."

"Jon Snow swore a vow to guard the realms of men. Jon Stark didn't."

Ygritte had been taken from her cell, a strong hand on either arm by southern soldiers, dragged across half of castle black, when she was finally put through a door. What lay on the other side irritated Ygritte more than being handled to the door.

The red woman, Melisandre, was lighting candles, her back to Ygritte.

"Come in," Melisandre offered. "You and I have things to discuss."

"I've got nothin' to 'discuss' with you," Ygritte replied. Melisandre stood straight and turned to look at Ygritte.

"By all means, tell the King's soldiers that," Melisandre offered, gesturing to the door.

Ygritte winced as she realized she was bound in nothing but a cloak and a dress. She sighed and stepped closer. Meliandre turned and finished lighting her candles.

"Stannis has made an offer to Jon Snow. Jon will become a Stark and fight for the Red God's chosen King, Stannis Baratheon. I look into the flames, and I see Jon Snow fighting before Winterfell, with wildlings at his back."

"The free folk, follow Jon?" Ygritte scoffed.

"Prove me wrong," Melisandre countered quickly. "Look into the flames." With a nod, she gestured to the candles, then looked back to Ygritte. Ygritte looked between the candles and the red woman again.

"Is this some kind of trick?" Melisandre merely shook her head, her expression one of stone as she stared back at the redheaded archer. Ygritte sighed and looked at the little candles. She stared a moment. "I just see little flames."

"Look deeper," Melisandre countered.

Ygritte breathed again, feeling foolish, and stared at the tiny candle flame.

"Your mind will wander, let it," Melisandre ordered. "The Lord of Light will shape the flame to show you what you must see." The red woman inched closer to Ygritte. The wild girl ignored her, uncaring, green eyes fixed on the tiny flickering.

Ygritte's mouth fell open.

"A castle," Ygritte declared, her mouth falling open. "With huge flat towers of dark stone. I see a boy running at Jon."

"Who is behind Jon?" Melisandre asked.

"Tormund," Ygritte answered. "And..." Ygritte backed away, looking away from the candles. Melisandre's frown had returned.

"Are you a fuckin' witch?" Ygritte hissed, stunned and feeling cornered.

"No," Melisandre replied. She changed subjects. "How can Jon Snow not accept Stannis's offer and fight at Winterfell? I saw you there, as I see you now." Ygritte was quickly becoming more and more threatened.

Ygritte lunged at the red woman. Her hands were still in shackles but she could still throttle the life from the witch. Melisandre's eyes were wide. She tried to step backwards, she couldn't escape however. Ygritte's hands were at her throat before she could call out.

The flame atop the candles sprang into foot-long tongues of fire as Melisandre silently prayed for salvation. Ygritte's chain was hooked under her amulet. The jewelry made of valyrian steel suddenly fell away from her throat. Melisandre felt the glamour fall away.

Ygritte screamed and jumped away. Melisandre looked over at her mirror and saw why. She was pale, pale as death. Her red hair was gone, only wisps of white remained. Her bones screamed in agony. She rolled over and found her amulet as the door was opening to the chamber. Her choker was on before the soldiers saw her. The candles went back to tiny licks of flame.

Melisandre could only breathe as her youth was restored to her. She looked over and saw Ygritte being grabbed by the soldiers, her eyes showing too much white as she stared back at Melisandre.

"Stop," Melisandre commanded. The soldiers paused in dragging Ygritte away. "Leave us. A mere accident." The pair let go of the younger woman and left the room. Melisandre looked down at the floor and raised a hand to massage her neck gently.

"What are you?" Ygritte demanded, horrified.

Melisandre winced, closing her eyes. She debated lying or telling the truth.

"Old," Melisandre replied vaguely. "Very old." Melisandre rose to her feet, a hand still at her neck. "I asked you what you saw when you died. I am close to dying myself." She raised her opposite hand to gesture with one finger at her amulet. "This keeps me young, keeps me alive." Melisandre lowered her hand to help Ygritte to her feet. The younger woman looked at the hand, seeing it's unblemished skin.

"We don't all embrace death, Ygritte," Melisandre confessed. "Some us, many of us, fear it. Death is the enemy. The first enemy and the last. The enemy always wins, in the end. We still have to fight him. That is why I am here, and why you are here, I think."

Ygritte took Melisandre's hand nervously and was pulled to her feet.

"How do you fight death?" Ygritte asked, still perturbed but more calm.

"Living," Melisandre replied simply. Melisandre released Ygritte's hand and stepped away, turning to attend her candles. "I don't know how much longer I have left. Without my power, I may have days, or less. I spent lifetimes searching for my purpose. Now I think I may have found it."

Melisandre turned back to look at Ygritte.

"Stannis may be the prince that my god promised, or perhaps Jon Snow is," Melisandre commented. "But I will stand with them, until the Dawn."

"What do you want with me, then?" Ygritte asked.

Melisandre's reply to the girl was simple.

"Jon Snow must accept Stannis's offer."

Dolorous Edd and Samwell both sat across from Jon Snow in the mess hall. The pair had heared Jon speak of Stannis's offer. Both were lost in thought. The three spoke softly, despite the hall being filled with every brother that served at Castle Black.

"It's a good offer," Edd noted, begrudgingly.

"It's better," Jon declared. "It's everything I wanted. I thought, maybe, maybe, my father would speak to the King. I could be Jon Stark, a knight of winterfell. Ride beside Robb in battle. Be a proper brother to Bran and Rickon and Sansa and Arya. Marry a girl, have Stark children of my own. They'd ride beside Robb's children."

"You should take it, then," Samwell declared. "The Night's Watch needs good men, I won't deny it. But the North needs good men ruling it, too. And family is important."

"Are you just saying that because you miss your family?" Edd asked Samwell, a grimace on his face.

"A little," Sam confessed. "But, I have Gilly and Smallsam now. Not the family I had, but it's a kind of family."

"Sam," Edd warned sternly. "Did you break your vows?"

"No," Sam said defensively. "We didn't do anything I swear."

Jon looked between the pair of brothers, puzzled. When had this become a chat about Gilly? The pair looked back at him and gestured for him to continue then. Jon just rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to refuse," Jon declared.

Edd and Sam's eyes widened.

"The wildlings need someone on their side," Jon said, explaining.

The three were shocked from their conversation by Maester Aemon entering the filled hall. The ancient Targaryen sat and two brothers unloaded a collection of baskets bearing metal tokens.

"Today," Aemon declared loudly, though such an ancient voice still trembled. "We will vote for a new Lord Commander. There are two candidates. Ser Allister Thorne, of Castle Black. And Ser Denys Mallister, commander of the Shadow Tower."

"Maester," Samwell called. "May I speak?"

"Samwell Tarly," Aemon declared. "You are recognized."

Sam stood, drawing glances from Jon and Edd.

"I'd like to suggest a third person for Lord Commander. I nominate Jon Snow." There were a few cheers and the pounding of tankards on the tables. Jon just stared up at his fat brother, worried.

"Very well, Samwell," Aemon noted. "Three candidates. The men named may speak and prove their right to the office of Lord Commander, or choose a man to speak for them. Ranger Thorne, you may speak first."

Instead of the white-haired ranger, Janos Slynt rose. The bald man needed no encouragement.

"Ranger Thorne commanded our defense here at Castle Black," Slynt commented. "He is a ranger, a leader of men. He drove the wildlings back because of Thorne." Jon ignored most of what Janos was saying. It was a boring speech anyway.

"What are you doing?" Jon whispered to Sam, incredulous.

"I wasn't going to let Thorne become Lord Commander," Sam declared.

"Jon Snow," Aemon called. "You may speak."

Without pausing Sam rose again.

"I will speak for brother Snow, Maester," Sam called loudly. "I found Janos Slynt during the attack on Castle Black. He was standing in a puddle of his own making." Sam was actually japing. Jon wanted to cover his face. "Gilly, a baby, and Janos Slynt, hiding in a store room." There was some laughter. "And honestly brothers," Samwell looked around the hall. "Gilly cried a lot less."

"Thorne is a strong ranger, no one here can deny it. But Jon Snow led us after Thorne was wounded. Jeor Mormont, the previous Lord Commander, saw something in Jon Snow. I believe we saw it clearer the night we withstood the wildlings. Both Thorne and Jon are good fighters. But Mormont saw greatness in Jon Snow."

Samwell sat at this, his words said. Applause rang out as men beat wooden mugs on wooden tables. Thorne rose now.

"You speak well, Tarly. You've said proud words. I heard 'em. Jon Snow is a good boy, but he's still barely a boy. He spent a long time beyond the wall, and hardened for it, aye. But he spent that time among wildlings. By his own words he admits he broke his vows. And now we've a wildling girl in our cells that may mean more to Snow than our brotherhood."

"He may be a great Lord Commander someday, I believe it. But I believe those days are far from now." There were nods and grunts of 'aye.' They were begrudging, but Jon heard them. "In the meantime, more Wildlings will come, to go south past our Wall to burn and pillage the kingdoms we came from. Think of those you left behind when you came north. Think of them when you vote."

The vote was quick. Jon's eyes were downcast as Aemon's assistant tallied the tokens on the pegs. There was a whisper into Aemon's ear.

"Ser Denys Mallister," Aemon declared. "is the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Tarly, if you would send a raven to the Shadow Tower, and inform Lord Commander Mallister of his position."

"Aye, Maester," Sam replied, down trodden.

Jon stood and turned to leave, when he saw Stannis Baratheon and Davos Seaworth standing in the corner. Jon rolled his jaw and stepped over to speak to them.

"Samwell Tarly speaks well," Stannis noted. "But your relations with the wild girl have cost you, Jon Snow." Jon merely nodded, resigned.

"I can't take your offer," Jon said simply, looking up to meet Stannis's eyes. "If the wildlings remain North of the wall, the dead will only grow stronger."

"How will you get them south, you barely have a new Lord Commander. It'll take days for Mallister to arrive from the Shadow Tower."

Ygritte was awakened by a loud banging outside her door. Like someone had just been knocked cold. She bolted upright from the cot. Her hounds were still in shackles, if whatever was outside the door was coming in, she'd have no way to defend herself other than pure animal savagery.

The bolt slid back. Ygritte stood from the cot and went back against the wall, her face a mask of grim resolve.

The door opened. A figure in black stepped in, a gleaming blade that shone silver in the weak blue light of reflected snow and ice. A mask was over the figure's face.

Jon Snow tugged down the mask. Ygritte let out a sigh of relief as a breath she hadn't been aware of holding.

"We have to go," Jon declared, sheathing his sword.


End file.
